


Violations

by DuncanByrne



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Episode: s05e12 Violations, Feminist Themes, Gen, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 10:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14423661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuncanByrne/pseuds/DuncanByrne
Summary: Deanna reflects. Based on the episode "Violations."





	Violations

I’m sitting criss-cross in my bed: wrapped up in plain lilac pajamas and sipping on a Grey Galway while I read this corny romance about some human girl falling in love with a Romulan mercenary who kidnaps her in his empty freighter. It’s not that good. And it’s not getting anything off my mind.

It’s not even that I feel horrible. I wish I did! It’s worse. I feel bored, confused, flat—and when the memory of the attack flashes back at me, I feel strangely, disgustingly thrilled.

Not as if I wanted it to happen. But I wish I were reacting differently. I had no idea someone with a normal, healthy set of emotions and no significant past trauma could feel like this. I thought when you were raped, you were supposed to scream, to bite and kick and shove and punch at him, that you would be desperate to fight him off of you, that you would be yelling “NO!” in a firm voice over and over again, that afterwards, you would be a wailing, crying, tearful mess of emotions, that everything in you would be furious at the man who dared invade your personhood. Disgusted. 

No. It hasn’t been like that. I wish it were.

I screamed just once, and I squirmed under him for a moment, until his body seemed to cage me in, and then, I just—froze. He was groping my fat and leaning his weight onto me and ramming between my legs, but I just lay there, praying for it to end. I was silent. My back was pressed to the floor. My legs were splayed out, stupidly, embarrassingly. He was shoving into me with disgusting squelching sounds. And I was just lying there, looking at the wall with my muscles completely tensed, waiting for him to stop, not even standing up for myself. Everyone knows that when someone does that to you, you should tell them no and fight as best you can. I didn’t. I didn’t even try.

And I feel like I must have enjoyed it, in an awful way: enjoyed the attention, or the thrill, or something; because all of my dreams have been the same: some sickening variation of the same event, whether it’s Jev coercing me into sex that I only partially enjoy, or Jev being polite to me like he was beforehand, or Jev raping me again, except I wake up aroused, because apparently I’m so fucked in the head I associate sex with people hurting me. I’ve always appreciated strong men, forceful lovers. I even played around with Will once, telling him I wanted to be thrown onto the ground and pinned down under his weight while we had sex. Jev was so close to that roleplay and I did so little to indicate that I did not consent, that it doesn’t just feel uncomfortable to call it rape, but incorrect, and shameful. I feel like if I call it rape, I’m demanding attention to myself, claiming that I have it the worst of anyone, trying to get pity. I can’t, I just can’t. 

I look back on it remembering only the unwilling flush between my legs in those terrified moments, like my brain is laughing off all the other things that are too painful to even begin facing.


End file.
